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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377446">Heal</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriamithril/pseuds/moriamithril'>moriamithril</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, F/M, Fluff, Return of the King timeline</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 06:33:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>681</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29377446</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/moriamithril/pseuds/moriamithril</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A sweet drabble for our lovely Éomer.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Éomer Éadig/Reader, Éomer Éadig/You</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Heal</h2></a>
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    <p>As the warriors strode into the House of Healing, you sunk back, retreating to the apothocary, away from the prying eyes of the others, one of the healers nodding her approval of dismissal. Upon seeing Éomer safe and alive, and seemingly unscathed, your heart nearly stopped, and you had to suppress a rattling sob from ricocheting throughout the hall of sleeping bodies. </p><p>You recalled your last meeting with him, and your hands shook as you busied yourself with the small, amber jars of herbs in the hutch. </p><p>Women and children had been instructed to evacuate Minas Tirith; the Great Gate was splintering and the horrors of Modor clawed at it from behind and Éomer sought you out before departing for battle.</p><p>His eyebrows knitted together as he watched you fold dressings, seated on a vacant cot, prepared for the wounded. You felt as if you sat within an empty tomb, freshly excavated and waiting for occupancy. </p><p>His eyes raked down your gown of simple wool and linen apron. ‘You are not dressed for riding,’ he stated plainly. ‘You are not remaining here, in the city?’</p><p>You clutched the white strips of fabric. ‘I cannot leave with battle upon us,’ you explained, eyes pleading with his dark ones. </p><p>His armor clanked as he dropped to one knee, bringing himself to eye level with you. The mail beneath his blood-red breastplate made him appear all the more broad. ‘You were given an order,’ he told you, voice deep in the back of his throat. ‘How am I to face what’s behind those gates, knowing you are not leagues from this wretched place? Do you know not of what’s to come?’</p><p>‘And yet you demand that I might find the strength to leave you!’ you shouted back, chest burning with shame as the healer behind you darted from the room to offer you privacy. ‘I am a healer; I must offer what I can -’</p><p>‘And I am your prince,’ he hissed, mouth in a thin line. </p><p>His words stung. Never before had Éomer seated his position above you in such a way. You were wise enough to know they came from fear, and you set aside the emotion in your heart. Throwing your shoulders back, you gave him a hardened look before returning to your dressings, flattening them along your leg. </p><p>‘And we are at war, my liege,’ you spat under your breath. ‘And my services will be needed, dearly, by dawn. Perhaps you ought to leave.’</p><p>You felt his eyes bore into you like coals spread over dried leaves, burning holes into them. Still, you refused to meet his gaze again, and your lip began to tremble violently as he rose, storming from the room. When you no longer heard his footsteps, you let your tears fall, absorbed by the dressing.</p><p> And now he had returned, knelt in front of his sister’s sickbed, willing her to wake. </p><p>After searching from an odd weed the head healer had beckoned you to find, you released another sob of relief when you heard her voice, soft and weak. The air seemed to calm and still, tinged with hope as those trapped beyond a dark slumber were pulled back to the land of the living. You turned on your heels slowly when you heard a body approach the apothocary.</p><p>Éomer stood in the threshold, apprehensive and expectant. Damp blonde hair hung down his shoulders, his hands blackened with soot, or earth, or blood. His eyes swam with tears before he hung his head, still unable to speak.</p><p>‘I should not have spoken to you with such disrespect; forgive me, Éomer,’ you began, but he parted the space between you with two worn strides, enveloping your face in his hands. They were cold, and you placed your warmer ones over them.</p><p>How your heart might have burst at the gesture, his expression forlorn and tired. He shook his head faintly. ‘I am proud that you are so brave, so dutiful,’ he whispered. ‘Forgive me.’</p><p>‘You are forgiven,’ you replied, and he kissed you, tasting of salt and smoke.</p>
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